


Realms End

by StormyTeacup



Category: Original Work
Genre: Action, Adventure, Comedy, Drama, F/M, Fantasy, Magic, Romance, Slice of Life, Slow Build, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2016-09-19
Packaged: 2018-08-16 03:03:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8084200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormyTeacup/pseuds/StormyTeacup
Summary: Chase Williams moved to New York to become a star. Her big dreams were delayed when reality hit like a ton off bricks: making it big in the movie scene was no picnic. In the meantime, Chase spends her days working as a server at the less-than-spectacular bar, The Copper Mug.
Life was pretty mudane until new bartender, Gideon Gray, arrived. Chase’s life is quickly tipped upside down as she is launched into a world she never knew existed – a world filled with magic, the supernatural, and tons of trouble waiting just for her.





	1. Made in Heaven

Saturday night was their busiest night. It wasn't that the bar was packed wall to wall with patrons. No, it just meant that the tables were filled and there was a sign-up sheet for one of two pool tables. Most bars in the city of New York would consider that a sub-par turn out, but, for The Copper Mug it meant the lights would stay on for one more month - at least.

It was true - there wasn't much cash to go around, just enough to pay for the essentials to keep the place going, or so was the explanation given when comments were made of about the condition of the chipped table tops, the out-dated wood paneling, and the less-than-appropriate graffiti on the bathroom stalls; but, it was nothing a little bit of low lighting and a couple pints of beer couldn't fix.

If Chase Williams had it her way it wouldn't have been her first choice for place of work, in fact, it really wasn't; but, there weren't a lot of options for a small town girl with ZERO serving experience. Then why choose a job in the serving industry if you don't have any serving experience? It was Chase's best friend, Macey Tolbert, who sold her on the idea as they sat in Chase's room days before she about to leave. Chase spent the previous two years humming and hawing about whether to follow her dreams to the big city to start her career in show business. For as long as she could remember she wanted to act in movies - to be an action star, a love interest, a heroin that girls could look up to. Now, the time had come and on her twentieth birthday Chase decided to actually do it. And so there they sat, two best friends, on the edge of Chase's bed, Macey clutching Marki the stuffed elephant in her hands, stating very astutely that any struggling artist - specifically actresses - _must_ get a job at a bar as a server. The tough atmosphere and grungy lifestyle would build the right kind of character giving Chase the wizened and jaded experience required for a desperate artistic soul - and not to mention - they made GREAT tips. Like, even up to 600 bucks on a good night.

And that's just what Chase did - she packed up her whole life (which at the time was just one room in her Mom's house), stuffed it into her '96 VW Jetta, and drove from her hometown Newton, NJ to the Big Apple. To Chase that's when life was really going to start. New York was going to be the place where all her dreams would come true - where she, a small town girl, was going to become something spectacular.

But, not really - because that's not how life works, right? Chase handed out resumes paired with her best smile and  naturally, bars turned her away because - well,  because it was illegal to hire someone under the age of 21. On top of that, diners felt that she wasn't worth the risk due to lack of experience and Chase was a tad too proud to settle for being just a dishwasher/part-time fry cook. 

Unfortunately, Chase's savings weren't going to last her forever and time was running out. That's when she found it - just 4 blocks from her apartment - a single door tucked along the side of what Chase thought was an abandoned building. It faced an unpaved parking lot and was marked with a flickering orange neon sign - The Copper Mug. Yes, it was a bar - yes, she was still 20 - and yes, this time she was going to lie about it.

Turns out - they didn't even ask. A girl had quit that afternoon and they were short staffed. Chase went to work that evening.

That day was three years ago….

Chase weaved her way through the packed tables, her drink tray held at shoulder height, carrying six pints of Old Milwaukee and an equal amount of shot glasses filled to the brim with The Copper Mug's cheapest whiskey.

"What's the occasion, boys?" said Chase. She faced a table of six men, all well above the age of 50, all long in need of a mirror - and half as many in need of a shower. In all honesty, if she had gone to any other table - she would be faced with the same thing - needless to say, the bar had a certain demographic.

"Ol' Jim's birthday - isn't it, eh Jim," said one from across the table, he pointed at the man sitting to Chase's immediate left. Ol' Jim grinned happily and leaned to look up at her. He wobbled dangerously in his chair and instinctively Chase placed a hand on his shoulder to steady him.

"Congratulations, my friend," she said, giving Jim's plaid covered arm a couple of pats before handing out the pints.

"Such a pretty guuurl," said Jim, his attempt at a grin was lopsided and sluggish. Chase tucked the empty tray under her arm and reached for the stack of bills the men had piled on the table for her. Cat calls or compliments, however you wanna look at it, came so often that Chase barely noticed anymore. She was young and, in her opinion, not particularly 'good-looking' but also not completely hopeless either. She was fit for her age and was granted a long slim waist. Her legs could've been longer - but heels help with that. She learned fast that skirts should NEVER be worn at The Mug so her work attire consisted of a plain v-neck shirt, jeans, and her comfiest boots (with a bit of a heel, because, well, you know).

One thing she didn't stand for, however, was when comments and creepy looks advanced to the sloppy grope. In fact, it was what Ol' Jim was about to do in that moment - but Chase knew - she had a bit of a sixth sense about these things. Her hand moved quickly and instead a handful on money Chase grabbed a handful of Ol' Jim's fingers just before they reached their final destination - her ass.

"Now, Jim," Chase said matter-of-factly, "I understand that it's your birthday and I bet until now you've had a pretty good year - so good, in fact, that you think you probably deserve a little taste of this," Chase used her tray to make reference to her body, "and granted, I get where you're coming from - but…."

She paused, mostly for effect, but also to make sure she had Jim's full attention. His half glazed eyes blinked a few times and his drunken grin faded. Chases continued, making sure to keep a courteous tone, "but Jim, even though it's your birthday - will break your fingers if you touch me."

Chase dropped Jim's hand, scooped up the bills from the table and tucked them in the apron at her waist.

"Have a goodnight, gentlemen," said Chase. She gave them a two-finger salute and made for the bar. The table of men behind her produced a mixture of impressed ooooo's and aaahh's that rolled into a pats on the backs and cackles of laughter. It was a fine line to walk but Chase had learned, over the course of 3 years, just how and where to draw it.

Along the way Chase took a quick detour to the door into the kitchen where Paula stood with her arms crossed and a Marlboro classic tucked in her lips.

"Jim too drunk, yet?" said Paula Dutcavich, her voice was rough like the crunch of gravel under your shoe. She was Chase's co-worker - the _other_ server (there were only the two of them at the moment - Renee had quit last week) and Chase, though she had never asked, was pretty sure that Paula had been at The Mug since it had opened - or so Paula made it seem. Paula knew just about every face that walked through the door - and if she didn't know them - she would by the end of the night.

"It's his 65th - so you gotta cut him a bit of a break," said Paula, her painted on eyebrows raised slightly and her fuzzy blonde perm bounced as she nodded her head toward the bar, "the new guy is having a bit of trouble - wouldn't you say?"

Behind the bar was the newest member of The Mug's team - Gideon Gray. He started the past Wednesday and just like Chase, three years ago - he had zero experience in the serving industry. Chase had hoped that Marney Sheffield, cook/owner of The Mug, would hire him. Not because he seemed like a nice guy with potential or anything (though Chase was pretty sure he was), no, it was because he was thee finest thing Chase had the pleasure of standing next to since that time she road train seated by a full-sized Captain America poster.

And that's just what Gideon Gray looked like - a darker cooler looking Chris Evans complete with a perfectly groomed beard. Just waaaay too good-looking to be working in a place like The Mug. Even now, as he frantically moved around behind the bar, he wore a deep green dress shirt, complete with belt, jeans, and even nice shoes - or as Chase would say 'real grown-up man shoes' which to her was pretty much anything but sneakers. Chase just adored watching him. It wouldn't be long before he realized that The Mug is NOT where he should be and that truly, he could do better. So, Chase had to savour it while she could - from a fair distance, of course - she was FAR too awkward to manage any kind of permanent or reasonably intimate relationship with such an angelic looking being.

She was glad he had started on the past Wednesday - it had given her time to go from speaking to him in mumbled squeaks to evolving into full sentences. By the end of Friday evening she had gone to having full conversations with him (well - as full as they could be - he wasn't much of a talker); this allowed her to quickly _friend-zone_ herself. Yes, she did it on purpose - this way it she could dispel any false hopes that she would have for man who was clearly out of her league. It's not that Chase had a poor opinion of herself - she just had a realistic one - she would say she was a 7 - maybe a 7.5 on a GOOD day. Gideon could get 10, easily - probably even the fabled 11 if he wanted to…. though at the moment …

Both Paula and Chase watched as the man spun on the spot, finger up in the air, eyes frantically searching for something. His hand darted and he picked up a bottle of bourbon only to inspect the label then set it down again. His face was full of an intense concentration. She had never seen someone working so hard - but getting absolutely nothing done.

"I think I'm gunna…" began Chase and she took a few steps in the direction of the bar.

"Go on sweetie - I got the tables," said Paula. Chase smiled and mouthed 'thank-you' to Paula before making her way to her more-than-overwhelmed bartender.

It was bad enough that he was new but also that The Mug only staffed one bartender. The bar had approximately ten tables and four booths, plus the area by the snooker tables and three VLTs. On the weekdays there would never be more than 20 customers in at one time - fairly manageable for two servers and one bartender; but, on a Saturday night when the place was packed with about 60 bodies things tended to get a tad crazy - especially when they were understaffed, which Chase hated to admit, was more often than not.

"I got your floor orders - just help these poor boys at the bench," said Chase, she had slide behind the bar and started grabbing empty pint glasses from the shelf. She set them down by the tap and turned to grab more. Unfortunately, for her, Mr. Gideon Gray had not seen her arrive behind the counter. He bumped right into her, she felt the tip of his chin dig into her forehead and her foot kicking the middle of his shin. In the kerfuffle, Gideon's elbow swung out and hit a bottle of rum off the counter. The bottle went flying to the ground, but even in her recovery from the collusion, Chase managed to swing out her hand and snatch the bottle from mid-air just moments before it would've smashed on the ground.

Chase replaced the bottle and looked over to Gideon who, to her surprise, was starring at her with the utmost confusion. He blinked a few times with slight astonishment only to recover when he finally spoke.

"I'm sorry. Sorry. I didn't even see you there. I'm a little out of my element."

Oh, and how could she forget the hint of a British accent, it was her _favourite_ part. Chase smiled, "what? Are you kidding me? You're like a fish in water."

Gideon didn't respond. His focus had already shifted from the action of the accident back to his work. He pulled out three tumblers and filled them with ice. He was so serious all the time. From his first day on the job until now he was nothing but well-mannered sorry's, thank-you's, and how are you's. Chase could appreciate a two dimensional man of mysterious - but quite honestly, if he was just a pretty face that would make life rather dull for her. So, she made it her personal mission  (with the advantage of the non-threatening friendzone) to find out his story - because really, what's a gorgeous guy like Gideon doing in a dungeon like The Mug. Chase had her reasons (the quest for fame wasn't a lubricative one) but Gideon - well, just by having a face like that he should have WAY more options. She watched him fill the tumblers with amber liquid then top them up with some cola.

"Not even a smile," said Chase, loudly enough for her voice to be heard over the rumble of the bar. She turned to the nearest patron on the other side of the keg taps. He was no older than Ol' Jim and had a beard that covered 80% of his chest. Chase jabbed her head in the direction of Gideon, "can you believe that guy, Fred? Here I am helpin' him out, givin' him compliments, dare say even on my way to crackin' a few jokes - and I get nothing - that's cold right?"

Fred's eyes struggled to focus on Chase, his hand raised his half-filled pint, "gggghhhffff cold beer… is good beer."

"That's exactly what I'm talking about - see Fred get's it."

Chase snuck a look from the corner of her eye. AH HA - there it was - a smile. Gideon was scooping ice into three more fresh tumblers and even in the dim light Chase could see a line of perfectly straight teeth. Not even a smirk - but a full on grin. WIN! She didn't think it was possible - but the man had just become at least ten times more handsome. If Chase could have it her way she would've stopped time right then and there. But, since she had no such powers she would just have to document these events in her obligatory 'super hotty' update texts to Macey. Even so, Chase took her time reveling the moment while it lasted.

"I'll get three pints of Keith's, two Godfathers, and a staff meeting," the cigarette danced in Paula's mouth as she slapped down an empty tray on the bar. The snap of the plastic tray against the countertop brought Chase back to reality.  With speed and expertise she filled Paula's order - 3 pints of tap beer, 2 scotch and amarettos, and 3 shots of unlabelled bourbon from Marney's home distillery. Chase whistled for Gideon's attention, slid one of the shot glasses to Paula, then took the other two in her hands. When Gideon arrived she handed him one of the shot glasses.

"What's this?" he asked.

"Mandatory staffing meeting," said Chase, she tapped her shot glass against his and gave a wink, "bottom's up."

 

* * *

 

"What do you think - 30 or 32?" Paula's low voice grumbled from beside Chase. Together they sat at an empty table that faced the bar and watched Gideon tidying up the last of the glasses. It was well past closing and both women were slouched back in their seats with a beer in hand. It was, as Paula explained, the appropriate therapy for making it through a busy night.

"Maybe 30 - I'm going to hope for 29" said Chase and she took another swig from her beer.

"I can hear you, ladies," said Gideon without looking up from wiping clean the top of the bar. His sleeves were rolled up to just below his elbows and if Chase squinted hard enough she could see the muscles ripple in his forearm with each swipe of the cloth.

Paula cleared her throat loudly, pulling Chases out of her trance-like state. She turned her eyes on Paula who mouthed 'you're staring'. Was she? She looked over at Gideon, who had his head down still wiping away. Well, at least he didn't seem to care. She downed the rest of her beer and looked at her watch - nearly 3:00am - shit! She had things to do tomorrow. Something along the lines of headshots, her agent, and being late. Chase got to her feet and grabbed her jacket and scarf from behind the bar.

"Alright - I'm off," she said. She slipped her on jacket and wrapped her scarf around her neck while making her way to the door.

"You're not walking home, are you? Alone…. and drunk?" It was Gideon.

Chase stopped and turned back to face him. It was the first night she had worked until closed, all other nights she had been off before 11. She was surprised to find genuine concern on his face. He looked so gallant standing there - with his big puppy dog eyes and his brows folded up forming the most perfect of wrinkle on his forehead - wait, what was gallant suppose to mean again? It was in that moment that Chase was thankful she had drank a couple extra after-work beers because if she hadn't she was sure she would've embarrassed herself in the following conversation. 

"I'm not -," she began but stopped to breath out the build up of carbonation in her stomach - or more simply, she burped. She tried again, "I'm not drunk."

Gideon raised an eyebrow. The last thing Chase wanted him to do was offer to walk her home. She did not have the confidence to deal with him tonight - that would take at least 3 more staff meetings and then some.

"No, I'll be fine. Seriously. I live like four blocks from here," she said then added, "plus, I'm like a ninja so you don't have to worry about me."

"A… a ninja?" said Gideon.

"Yeah, like a samurai, wu-shu warrior, like - " Chase dropped her voice and squinted her eyes, " _I know Kung Fu_ sort of ninja."

Gideon had stopped working and looked up at her bearing a look of outright confusion, "Those thing aren't even …. was that suppose be Keanu Reeves?"

Chase nodded and then continued - for clarification obviously, "My mom wanted me in sports growing up cause I'm _super_ dextrous _*hiccup*_. I'm not a fan of team sports but all the girls played volleyball - so I joined. After school this one girl, _Meghan_ , who was on my team beat the crap outta me _\- *hiccup*_ why, I don't know. I think she had "issues". Anyway, my mom decided that would never happen again - and I was forced to join Karate instead!"

Silence. Gideon stared at her.

"That sounded a lot cooler in my head," said Chase.

"Did it?" said Gideon.

"Well - bottom line - I'm a ninja now."

"You've got to be joking," said Gideon. Clearly her story had not been convincing enough.

Chase raised both hands up in an arc at her sides, mimicking wings, and then stood on one foot, her other leg bent and raised to hip height, "Am I?"

"HIIIIIIIIIEEEEEGGGGGHH," she said and with impressive skill Chase kicked out the leg she was standing on and landed precariously on the other foot. It was The Karate Kid crane kick - executed perfectly.

Paula erupted in applause and whistled. Even Gideon smiled and shook his head in disbelief. Chase gave a deep bow in both their directions then turned on her heel and left - because let's face it, there was no topping that.

 

* * *

 


	2. Drunken Master

Chase wasn't kidding. All of what she told Gideon was true - right down to stupid, mean, extremely-burly-for-a-14-year-old girl, Meghan. Chase had been in Karate for many years and was good enough to be selected for her state's team. She had reached quite a high-level and had been an instructor in her town before moving to the city. Her Sensei had been  versed in a number of martial arts so Chase had not only dabbled in Karate, but in Judo, Wushu, and Tai Chi. Starting from a young age, Chase had always been agile. Her mother said she was 'gifted' when it came to her physical balance and natural dexterity. She would tell Chase that it was "God-given" though Chase greatly suspected she had inherited it from her father - though she could never be sure, she had never met the man.

Chase pulled up her hood and watched her breath curl and twist in the cool air. She stood beneath the orange glow of The Mug's neon sign. The light hummed loudly against the quiet of the night. The parking lot was empty but for two cars. Paper and trash tucked up against the side of the building, a variety of fast food bags and unclaimed newspapers. The view from the front stoop of The Mug wasn't what most would describe as 'a pretty sight' - no, quite the opposite in fact; but, to Chase, after 3 years of steady work, the sight had become familiar, dare say, even homey.

She pulled out her headphones, tucked them in her ears, and smiled. Tonight was a good night. 

Chase Williams may not have lied about the being a ninja - but what she had lied about was being drunk. Chase took a moment to look up at the night sky - yep, she was pretty blitzed.

The full moon swayed back and forth as it hung overhead - no, correction, Chase swayed back and forth as she stood looking at the moon. A couple of staff meetings and three beers at the end of the busy night tended to do that to a 130 lbs girl. She was usually pretty good at holding her booze - but tonight she hadn't stopped for supper. The alcohol in her empty tummy quickly made its way into her veins - there it mixed and thinned her blood which brought a rosy blush to her cheeks, warmth to her limbs, and terrible decision making to her brain.

Which is probably why at that moment Chase was very seriously considering taking a shortcut home. It was the back alley that ran behind The Mug and continued on for several blocks. If she took that shortcut she could shave off three quarters of a block's walk-home. Something she often did - during the day, when the sun was out, while everything was well lit and overall non-threatening. Chase teetered as she examined both options. The city street glowed warmly with yellow fluorescence - while the alley swallowed the light turning it into a pit of eternal darkness.

But three quarters of a block….. was so far…. and Chase been on her feet ALL night. And there was a full moon so that was basically like a sun but just, like, at night, right? Chase's empty stomach cast its vote via a low tumbling growl. And she did miss supper so…..

WORTH IT. Chase hit play on her phone and her feet directed her toward the dark abyss that was to be her walk home.

In her 3 years of living in the city Chase never really encountered any serious issues. She did live in a rough neighbour - a trade off for a reasonably sized apartment for a decent price (anything else she was paying far too much money for a glorified closet that landlords had the balls to call a 'two bedroom'). The Mug attracted all kinds of characters and there had been those moments that Chase was pretty sure the man she had seen sleeping by the dumpster that afternoon was the very same one she had ended up serving that night. The "creepers", as Chase like to call them, were mostly all talk - and if they got out of hand other patrons of the bar would step up to her defense before Chase even had time to respond herself; that same dynamic seemed to resonate within the streets of Vinegar Hill, Brooklynn. When Chase described it to Macey she would say that the area had 'heart', you know. Like people watched out for each other, even though they sometimes looked like they wanted to murder you and wear your skin. 

Her Mom told her that she was just lucky - and that crime did happen in Brooklyn - and that Chase should be careful because one day her luck would run out. But, what did Mom know - she was still living in Newton, NJ, a town of 7,000 people and, like, 10 churches, plus 1 Abbey. Chase had a hard time giving her Mom the title of 'crime expert'. Her Mom wouldn't know crime if it walked up and slapped her right in the face.

Chase had gotten to the point in the alley where she could only go forward or turn back for the buildings were crushed together so tightly that one couldn't cut back to the street for any space left was sealed off with a chain link fence. The moon, thankfully, was high enough so the light reached past the edge of the rooftops and illuminated part of the alley. The song 'Good Together by Honne' queued up on her playlist making her booze fueled feet dance along the alley floor. Her mind was replying the evening's events - particularly those that involved a certain handsome looking bartender. Which is why Chase failed to noticed that along the shadowy edge next to a dumpster there were two figures - wrestling?

One figure stumbled back, out from behind the dumpster and into the moon light - it was a man, well, sort of. He was small in stature and his shoulders were hunched forward, his skin looked greenish-grey in the light, and his hands - were  the size of Michael Phelp's - which looked unnaturally large for a man so small. He had thinning black hair that framed rather enlarged and pointed ears. His clothes were ragged and dirty. And lastly Chase noticed that in one of his Michael Phelpsian hands he gripped a long knife - a dagger really (but who says that, nowadays), that was dripping with some sort of dark vicious fluid.

"Oh… Shit…." said Chase. Part of her thought that she would use the Jurassic Park tactic - like if she didn't move this psychotic looking man wouldn't see her, while the remainder was screaming, 'RUN STUPID!'.b iuy 

Had she not muttered any exclamation out loud she probably would've gotten away with either option. She watched the man's ear twitch as her words rolled down the back alley toward him. Twenty feet wasn't that far and in the dead night even the quietest of whispers could've been heard (which Chase wasn't capable of producing anyway).

The man turned to Chase, his head twisted from side to side like some bird of prey inspecting its next meal.

"Okay - I can see that I've interrupted something here," said Chase, she pulled out her ear buds, tucked them in her pocket then held her hands out in front of her in a manner of surrender, "I'm just gunna go back the way I came and leave you guys to deal with your - well, what whatever you seem to be dealing with. And I'm most definitely NOT going to call the cops - like seriously - I'm totally cool with just walking away and letting you do you're thang."

Chase WAS going to call the cops and perhaps it was the blatant lie that triggered him. The creepy looking man slowly raised the blade in Chase's direction.

It was then that Chase's real instincts kicked in - she dropped her hood and removed her scarf. Her eyes locked on to her opponent. She was always taught that if all other options failed then kicking ass was an okay solution to putting an end to a threatening situation. Chase rolled her scarf part way around one fist and held the end in her other hand. She slid one foot out in front of her and dropped into her stance. She put on her most intimidating face.

"Don't make me Con Air you - my body is a weapon," said Chase.

To Chase's surprise her intimation failed. The man twisted his head and bored his teeth while letting out a guttural hiss. His mouth was blackened inside, his gums, tongue, and teeth tinged blue. Spittle flicked onto his chin as the hiss came to a finish which made Chase's face scrunched with disgust.

"Oh, dude, there is something wrong with your mouth - you have got to get that checked out. I'm not going to say it but…," said Chase, "worse case scenario - we both know what that could be - and it is NOT good." 

In most cases, keeping one's mouth shut in situations like these would be the smarter thing to do in order to avoid provoking one's attacker and escalating the situation. But smack talking came so naturally to Chase that to her it was a thoughtless and involuntary reaction. Many would attribute it to her inability to stop talking on a regular basis and when tensions ran high Chase tended to compensate - with words - a lot of them - often in the form of an insult or joke or both. Macey would say Chase was 'Chandler Binging' or 'Binging it' for short.

One thing was certain - at least Chase could put her money where her mouth was…

The man lunged - blade first, but Chase was expecting it. She dodged his strike, letting his arm fly past her, in that same moment she used her scarf to catch his wrist. In two graceful swoops she locked her scarf tight around the hand holding the knife. She used his momentum to swing him around to the edge of the alleyway and charge him, face first, into a chain link fence.

The man struggled with his face pressed against the cold metal links but Chase didn't let up. She gave her scarf a final twist and with a SNAP the knife fell from the man's hand - she had dislocated his wrist (or broke it - it was hard to tell). The man let out a growl and managed to bring a leg up to push off of the fence sending he and Chase back into the alley.

Chase dropped her scarf and dove for the knife. Her opponent had the same idea but Chase beat him to it. Chase hurled the knife over the chain link fence and spun to meet the man with a swift side kick to the gut. He let out an 'ooof' and doubled over. His bent posture made it easy for Chase to follow up with a knee to his face. The hit brought the man upright again and he stumbled back. Chase finished the fight with a quick side snap kick to his chin and with that the man fell to the ground, unconscious.

"Hoooooo daaaaamn," said Chase. She hopped on the spot and then did a couple of air jabs. She turned to the other figure which leaned on the edge of the dumpster. "Did you see that?!"

The other man, who looked very similar to the unconscious man on the ground (pointy ears, wispy black hair, and ghoulish skin), stood clutching his gut. His eyes were wide and locked on Chase. It took her a moment to roll down off her high and remember that - hey, this guy just got stabbed. Chase moved toward him, "are you okay?"

The man took several clumsy steps away from her until his back was flush against the wall of the alley. His eyes darted from her to the body on the ground. It didn't take a genius to figure out that the man was terrified of Chase, herself.

"What - no - I didn't -" she began. The man shook his head frantically and then, with his hand still holding his wounded stomach, he turned tail and ran down the alley away from Chase. Chase's arms flew into the air in disbelief, "HE STABBED YOU! NOT ME! COME BACK!"

The man didn't stop. He took the first right he could and disappeared from sight. Chase let her arms drop to her side in defeat.

"What the hell man?" she muttered, "so weird."

She turned her attention back to the unconscious man on the ground. She poked him with her foot. Yep, still out. She had hit him pretty good - she had caught his jaw just right knocking him out cold. She took her phone from her pocket and dialed 9-1-1. It was a bit of a sobering moment for her. Chase had just had a pretty epic fight, the adrenaline that pumped in her veins dissipated the effects of the alcohol and Chase realized that her 'good night' was going to turn into a long and serious discussion with the cops. What happened in this alleyway was going to sound like a pretty tall tale - even when she recounted it to Macey she was sure she was going to be met with skepticism. Then to tell her mom…. Uuuggghh

"9-1-1," said the operator.

"Hi, yeah, this is Chasity Williams," said Chase. She crouched next to the unconscious man and began searching his pockets for his wallet. She knew that they would want all the information she could tell them - so if she could get a head start with this guy's ID then all the better.

"Yeah - I just had an… uh.. altercation with a guy. Yeah - the 100 block of Bridge St, the alley between Plymouth and John. Yeah - he's unconscious now. Oh? That's not what altercation means? I see…. Yeah, it was more like a fist fight then - he came at me with a knife. Sure - a physical assault - that's what it was…."

Chase could not find a wallet for the life of her. In the final pocket, the left breast pocket of his coat, Chase's fingers felt something. She pulled out a necklace. Quite simply - it was beautiful. A silver chain with a matching pendant that housed a reddish orange stone that was framed by an ornate casing. Even in the shadow of the building, as Chase inspected the piece of jewellery, the silver shone and the stone glimmered like the flames of a fire.

"10 to 15 minutes… okay…." said Chase - though she was half listening to the lady on the phone now. She was transfixed by the beauty of the stone. She wasn't even sure if the operator had finished talking when Chase hit _end_ on her phone. She stood with the necklace in her hand. Was this what the two guys were fighting over? It looked REALLY expensive.

Chase looked down the alley both ways. Not a single soul in sight. The 9-1-1 lady said the cops would be there in what, 10 minutes? That was plenty of time for Chase to just get a quick selfie with something that was probably worth 100 times the amount of everything she had ever owned…. ever. Plus, the colour of the stone would really bring out the natural red highlights in her brown hair totally warming up her overall complexion.

She hesitated. Probably not a smart thing to do - and probably not the appropriate time do it, either. A breeze rolled past and with it came a whisper, ' _do it'_ it said _'no one will know…'_. Normally, something like that Chase would find weird - odd - and ultimately COMPLETELY UNNATURAL. But, for some strange reason all she could think was, 'yeah - good point'.

Chase put the necklace on. She tugged her brown hair from beneath the chain and fluffed it around her shoulders. She pulled up her camera on her phone and lined it up for a selfie. Macey would lose her shit when she saw this….

Chase took the first shot then checked it out. Not bad - but she could do without the unconscious dude on the ground in the background. Chase moved a little further into the alley - out of the shadows and into the full moon light. In the movies diffused light was key in making actors look good and the moon was pretty much the biggest bounce sheet in the entire world - so it would be silly not to use it. Chase turned to catch the moonlight at just the right angle. Even the necklace glowed more vibrantly against the light.

Actually, it glowed REALLY vibrantly. Like so vibrant that it actually looked like it was glowing from the _inside_.

"Whooaaa - that is fuuuunky," said Chase. She focused her camera on it to get a better look.

The necklace's glow continued to grow in intensity and then it began to feel warm against Chase's skin. Then it got a little hot. Then, almost instantaneously, it went from warm to hotter than fire itself.

"Oh son of a bitch! GODDAMMIT!" cried Chase. Her hand shot to her chest and she tried with great effort to tear the necklace from her skin. But - it wouldn't budge. The pendant was stuck fast as if it had fused to her sternum and when Chase pulled at it felt like she was pulling at her entire rib cage.

The burn continued to grow past Chase's pain threshold. The world began to spin and all Chase could feel was the fire on her chest. She stumbled and fell against the chain link fence. Her fingers locked between the wires and she tried desperately to stay conscious. She could hear footsteps, someone was running, then she could hear someone shouting. It was a man's voice - it was…. it was it shouting her name. She wanted to call out to him but….

It was too much. The pain overwhelmed her and Chase felt her remaining strength leave. Her fingers let go of her grip on the fence and she felt herself falling.

She didn't hit the ground though. She felt arms around her body. Someone had caught her. Her eyes wanted to close but she forced them to stay open. Through the spinning and pain Chase could see the outlines of a face. It had a beard, brown eyes - she knew the voice - the British accent…. it was saying her name. 

 Gideon's voice echoed and then began to fade. Chase's vision tipped from swirls into a blurs and then into complete darkness.

 

* * *

 

***For Context: 'Good Together' by Honne https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YH3ArVgkw6I


	3. And That Makes You...

Ugggh… what time was it? Chase rolled over and pulled the cover up closer to her face. Sunday morning - what was she suppose to do again? Right… headshots. She was suppose to deliver headshots to her agent. Oh, that Gilbert Godfried lookin' mother F'er was going to be so pissed. She was suppose to do that over a week ago but things got busy at work - Renee had quit. Stupid Renee. Ugh - Chase reached up to her face and she wiped the crusties from the corner of her mouth. Why did she drink so much last night? Right, cute bartender - so damn cute. He made her so nervous.

Thoughts of Gideon invaded her mind. His smile - that's right she had made him smile last night, twice. Chase let out a sigh but kept her eyes closed, she could still see his face. She reached for her second pillow and brought it down to snuggle pretending it was him she was wrapping her arms around. She even could smell him - clean, like fresh linens, but not a floral scent - more manly, she imagined that if Brad Pitt had a smell that that's what Gideon Gray smelled like. She took a deep breath and with it came that exact scent. Wow, her memory was good - wait….

She took another deep breath. There it was again - Au du Brad Pitt - coming from her pillow. No, her pillows didn't smell this fresh - she hadn't washed her sheets in, like, a month. Her sheets smelled like The Mug - stale beer and cigarette smoke. These sheets - these sheets smell like man-heaven*. And they felt, Chase ran her hand along the bed, they felt like frickin' silk. These sheets were not Chase's sheets.

She opened one eye slowly and then the other. She was facing a wall painted steely grey. The sheets were black satin covered with a dark grey duvet. This was definitely not her bed. She whipped her head around to get a clear view of the room. Oh - the headache! The fast movement plus the light from the lamp on the bedside table made her brain throb. It was like it had grown its own heart - beating with a fierce thunderous pulse. She was never going to drink again. _Never_.

When the pounding had subsided she attempted to get her bearings again. Small room, complete with bedside table and lamp. The door was kitty-corner to where she laid and next to the door was a dresser. All pieces of furniture held the colour scheme of dark and broody and Chase was pretty sure all of which were purchased at IKEA - because that dresser certainly looked like a Koppang - but maybe it was the Oppland, she couldn't be sure.

Dark and broody man-cave is where she was - riiiiiiight. She remembered now, the back alley, ugh, that guy's gross-ass mouth, Gideon's beautiful face catching her as she fell. That's right she fell and he caught her, it was kind of romantic… - OH SHIT SHE FELL! THAT'S RIGHT - THE FREAKY NECKLACE! Chase sat up instantly in bed - her head erupted into pain but she refused to lay back down. Her hands darted to her chest - no burn mark? No pain? Was it a dream? Chase pushed her hands into her long brown hair pulling it at the roots - oh man she was going full Kristen Stewart on this one - complete with nervous lip bite. She brought her hands down to her face and gave it a firm rub trying to massage the headache out from behind her eyes.

Then it dawned on her - a far more important realization than the weird burny crystal necklace thingy… she was in Gideon's bed. This was Gideon's room. Those were Gideon smells on those Gideon pillows. Oh man - THIS WAS SO AWKWARD. She felt so grubby from the hangover. Chase looked back to the pillow she had slept on - yep - great big drool stain marked her place. Black sheets were really REALLY bad for that. She reached over and flipped the pillow to the other side - yep, much better.

Chases wasn't the type to wake up in the bed of strange men. Mostly because she was never really the type to go home with strange men. Call her old fashion - but she always felt like one night stands were a little premature - she liked the idea of being in love and all that 'boring stuff' as Macey would say. So this current situation was a little new for Chase. She checked under the sheets anyway - yes, she was stilling wearing her pants, thank God. Her boots and jacket were gone, though. Nice of him to take them off and all, though the image of her toes peaking through the holes in her socks brought a faint hint of blush to her cheeks. Catching her when she fell - very romantic. Removing her stinking feet from her overused boots - not so romantic.

Chase took a deep breath and swung her feet to the end of the bed (or the slow-motion version of that, anyway). She steadied herself with her hands then pushed herself to her feet. A bit wobbly, her knees quivered slightly - not her usual hangover symptom but still not a particularly huge surprise - she had had a pretty rough night. Chase took a few unsteady steps to the door. It was closed, though not completely, a small crack let a slice of light spill in from the next room.

Chase put her hand on the door but stopped - she could hear voices. Two low male voices, then the sound of a door shutting, then silence. She waited a few seconds longer. She could hear someone moving around - the hollow thud of a cupboard door slam then the sound of a facet running. Please be Gideon. Please be Gideon. Chase moved to open the door and stepped out into a brightly lit apartment.

"Hi - uuughh," groaned Chase. Her hand went up and shielded her eyes from the bright glare of an overhead light fixture, "oh wow - that is bright. Hi - is that - you… Gideon?"

She couldn't see through the squint of her eyes. A figured moved across the room and the lights dropped from the intensity of the f-ing sun to the low glow of twilight - which was far more acceptable according to Chase. She opened her eyes and gave a blink to adjust. The room was not overly large, just slightly bigger than Chase's own apartment. The dark and broody Ikea theme continued into the living room and kitchenette area. A small sofa and chair (with her jacket slung over the arm), one coffee table, one small kitchen table with two bar-like stools and an updated redone kitchen - complete with stainless steel appliances (nice) and a gorgeous man holding a glass of water.

Gideon made his way from the kitchen to Chase and handed her the glass of water.

"Oh - uh, thank-you," she said. He stood in front of her with a look of concern. It was difficult for her to tell with the beard and all but she suspected that his concerned eyes were accompanied with an equally concerned frown. Chase raised the glass as if to say 'cheers' and then took at sip. Ooo, the silence was awkward - she didn't like silence.

"So - did you decorate this place yourself? It's so…..minimalist," she said. Nope, nothing from Gideon. Still stoic. She continued, "Ikea, am I right? You're a fan too, I see."

She moved past him further into the living room and pointed at the couch, "the Friheten, nice choice - did you know it doubles as bed? Pretty nifty if you ask me."

Why wasn't he saying anything. And why was he just staring at her like that? What was that look anyway - was it pity, concern? She was fine wasn't she? It's not like she was THAT hungover. Chase bent and placed the half-finished glass of water on the table. Granted he did look super cool standing there all sombre-like but situations like these were not Chase's forte - 'play it cool' was never really in the books for her. She rocked on her heels and then patted her hand on the sides of her hips.

"Well, this was a pleasure - I think - I think I'm just gunna head out. It's late - I gotta do some stuff tomorrow, you know -" Chase took a few steps backward through the living room. She reached blindly for her jacket and managed to catch her leg on the back of the chair and stumbled a bit, "I'm okay - I'm just - yeah"

She made a motion with her thumbs over her shoulder pointing at the door behind her to which she promptly turned to and walked through.

It was darker than a hallway should be. Dark, as in can't-see-your-hand-in-front-of-your-face dark, dark as in probably-not-a-hallway-at-all dark. Chase reached over to the wall behind her and found the light switch and flicked it on - yeah, this was a bathroom. It was Gideon's bathroom - with a black shower curtain and matching grey towel and washcloth. It was a nice bathroom - redone just like the kitchen - how much was he paying for this place?

"Uh… Chase."

Gideon's muffled voice made its way through the bathroom door, "I think we need to talk about a few things."

Even muffled through a door it sounded so delicious. But, there was something about his tone that made her worry. She took a step toward the sink, away from the door, "Yeah - I think so - like about how this place is amazing? It is WAY nicer than mine. I gotta know how much you pay for rent cause this is unbelievable."

She could feel it - she was 'Binging it'. Chase wasn't a fan of feelings other than happy. Whether it was scared, sad, or even mad Chase preferred to avoid the subjects of anything that would make those bad feelings worse.

"No - Chase. Not that - "

"Dammit," Chase cursed under her breath. She really wasn't in the mood to have this conversation. Last night was weird. Weird like stay-in-the-past-and-never-talk-about-again-weird. She looked in the mirror. She had tired lines running under her green eyes and her hair - oh man - was sticking up in the back. She combed through it with her fingers. It helped - a little. And her faced - it looked so anxious. She knew she was exhausted but she didn't think she felt that distressed. Chase leaned closer to get a better look - but for some reason her reflection didn't follow. Instead her reflection went from having a look of mild apprehension to one of intense fear. Her mouth twisted and began to speak, but it wasn't in her voice.

"Help me - HELP ME PLEASE!" yelled her reflection. Fear was raked across her face and her hands reached up toward the glass - toward Chase herself. 

Chase stumbled back from the sink while her reflection continued to reach out at her. She turned to the door and went for the knob but her hand missed - her hangover headache was suddenly magnified. She could hear the woman's voice still swirling within the pounding thumps inside her head. It hurt so much that Chase fell to her knees, she couldn't help but shout out in pain though she wasn't sure if she had for all she could hear was the sound of the woman's screams. 

The door flew open and just as quickly as the vision and headache had come it was gone. Chase heaved, her breath coming fast and her heartbeat raced. She could feel the hard cool floor tiles pressing into her knees. She brought the back of her palm up to wipe a bead of sweat from her upper lip.

"Are you okay?" Gideon's voice came from beside her - he was crouched down with a hand resting on her shoulder.

"OH WOW THAT HURT! Oh man…" said Chase. She was still on her hands on knees afraid to move her head. Hands down - worst headache ever. Chase readied herself then made an attempt to get to her feet. Her legs felt like jelly and her knee gave out mid-stand. She reached for a towel rack and missed but thankfully, Gideon's arm was at the ready at her waist. She felt it take her weight - it scooped around her back and steadied her against his chest. Oh damn….

It was too much. It was all too much. The mirror. The talking reflection. The rock hard pecs. Just way too much. And, as much as Chase wanted to stay where she was forever, she pushed herself out of Gideon's arms.

"Did…did you happen to hear a girl screaming?" said Chase. Still slightly shaken, she walked past Gideon back into the living room, "Please say you did? No? Oh shit - was that schizophrenia? I'm pretty sure that was schizophrenia."

Gideon stood between the end of the coffee table and the bathroom. His eyes followed her as she made laps back and forth in front of the Friheten. He had both hands out, palms up, no doubt to trying and calm her down, "why don't you just have a seat. It's not schizophrenia."

"How do YOU know it's not, Dr. Gray?" Chase was rubbing her temples now and still pacing, "and just because your name is the same as a TV show about doctors does not give you license to diagnose me"

"I don't know what that means but just settle down okay," said Gideon, "just listen to me for a second."

Chase turned her attention on him, fingers still at her temples. She watched Gideon dig his hand into his pocket and from it produce a silver chain. He opened his palm to show her - it was the necklace - or what was left of the necklace. Now, instead of housing the red stone from the night before it was just a silver shell and a gaping hole.

"Hey! That was the thing that guy had - the necklace thingy," said Chase.

Gideon set the amulet's shell down on the corner of the coffee table, "Yes, this is the thing the guy had - the thing which is now inside you."

The first part of the sentence Chase understood - the second part, not so much.

"I'm sorry - what?"

"The crystal - that was in it - is now buried deep inside you, " said Gideon ( _"you don't have to make it sound so gross" said Chase_ ). He took a step closer to her, blocking her pacing path between coffee table and couch. He brought a hand up and tapped a finger against her chest, "right - there."

Chase was sure he had just heard her swallow for the sound of her nervous gulp echoed in her ears. Why did he have to stand so close? Had he not heard of the concept of someone's personal bubble - 'cause he was all up in hers right now. But, it was because he was so close that Chase could see in his eyes that he wasn't lying. The man standing in front of her was completely serious - his statement, as absurd as it sounded, left his lips as if it were an absolute fact. Where his finger pressed into her chest grew warm and Chase felt as though there was something pulsing beneath her skin.

Chase took a step back, "so, what does that mean, exactly?"

Gideon's eyebrow tipped up slightly, "it means that you've become a very important person to a lot of people."

Chase took another step back, "what kind of people, exactly?"

"The kind of people who want to destroy the world - and the kind of people who want to stop those people from doing it."

"Oh…" said Chase. For some reason she felt that now was the time to take a seat on the couch - she would later attribute that urge to pure unadulterated shock, "and what kind of people are you?"

"The latter"

"Oh right - of course. Good - so you're like the 'good guy' when it comes to dealing with magical important end-of-the-world necklaces," said Chase. Clearly, this was all making perfect sense.

"More-or-less," said Gideon. He took a seat next to her.

He moved slowly when he sat as if any fast motions would spook her away. And he looked so serious. How could he be so serious? She looked at him nervously, "so that probably means that you're not going to do something totally crazy and like stab me in the chest to dig out the magic jewel thingy or something like that, right? Because that's what evil people would do…"

She meant it as a joke - sort of, though, her sarcasm felt have hearted. She had finished the statement with a cheesy smile hoping it would cover up the absolutely terrifying possibility that what she had just said was some kind of plausible option.

Gideon smiled too and then chuckled which made Chase start to chuckle. Then Gideon started full out laughing and Chase followed suit though the nervousness she was attempting to hide was becoming more and more evident upon her face and in her laugh - and well, in her over all demeanour. Oh god, was this guy crazy?

"Hahhahaha - yeah… hahaha. _Soooo funny_ , right?" her voice was several octaves than usual, "Why - why are we laughing?"

Gideon slowly recovered from his chuckle and cleared his throat, "Oh - it's just not that simple."

"OH GREAT!" Chase was back on her feet.

"I thought you'd be relieved to hear that wasn't an option - " said Gideon, completely nonplussed. Chase's sudden outburst had brought him too his feet as well.

"Yeah but now, according to you, this magic thing is stuck in me," said Chase. She was back to pacing, "like, let me guess - we try and surgically remove and I'll die, right?"

"Yeah," said Gideon, "and a lot of other bad things…"

He said the second part as an after thought and mostly to himself. Chase gaped, "what - like the world will explode or something?"

"Well…" his voice sounded skeptical but his face wore an unmistakable 'MAYBE'. 

"Fantastic. Great," said Chase. This was absolutely outrageous. Absolutely unbelievable. "So now what?"

"Now, you stick with me until I get you to someone who can figure this out."

Chase stood there. Her hands found themselves firmly placed on her hips. She couldn't think of a reasonable explanation for what happened in the alley - that was some straight up other-worldly shit or possibly some of craziest drugs she'd ever seen. She tapped her foot and stared at Gideon - was this guy for real? His gorgeous face looked at her with such a genuine expression - how could she doubt him? This was becoming just too much for her to process.

"If you're telling the truth and you're not just messing with me and I do have some kind of mystical stone stuck in, well, me - then what does this make you? A Shadow Hunter?" said Chase.

"No" said Gideon

"A vampire?"

"No"

"A vampire _slayer_ "

"NO"

"A shinigami?"

"I don't think that's even a word."

"A wizard?"

"No - just stop."

"An orphaned heir to a wealthy company who is seeking justice for his parents unexplained deaths?"

"Chase - I'm not Batman!" said Gideon. He placed his hands on her shoulders and tip his head toward her to ensure she was looking straight into his eyes… his dark brown doe eyes, "Just - you might want to sit down for this…."

 

* * *

***man-heaven: heaven made of completely godly looking men. Copyright Macey Tolbert.

 

 

~~~Author's Note:  
  
Hey everyone! Glad you've given this a read - I hope you've enjoyed it so far. I haven't decided exactly how this story is going to unfold but I believe it is what I want to focus on come NaNoWriMo this year. Please give me a shout out if you like it - review it, PM me, I dunno - do something, anything to let me know I'm on to something and that YES, I should in fact bring you more!   
  
Anyway, Happy Reading - and see you again in November!  
  
Cheers,  
Stormy

 


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